


The Deathly Hallows and George Weasley

by Kyra_Neko_Rei



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Shenanigans, Epilogue What Epilogue?, Fix-It, George is a walking disaster, Grief, I will probably make the villain someone familiar, Multi, NO PROMISES THO, People Coming Back from the Dead, The Deathly Hallows, Time Travel, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and so is current you, characters from Cursed Child but that's basically it, ditto the epilogue, foreground shenanigans, fucking around with the space-time continuum, fun with your former self, he knows what he did, or not fun because your former self was a dick, people threw prompts in my general direction and this happened, sorta - Freeform, tags to be added once I decide what I'm doing, this is a call-out for Severus Snape in particular, wannabe dark lords and other nuisances, wizard fascism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 21:59:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyra_Neko_Rei/pseuds/Kyra_Neko_Rei
Summary: Decades ago, Harry Potter assembled the Deathly Hallows and defeated Lord Voldemort. Today, a man wearing one of them walked into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and attempted petty theft. George Weasley, mostly-functional walking disaster who's never gotten over the loss of his twin, finds himself in possession of the Stone---and his brother.The thief, however, is no mere low-rent shoplifter, but a wizard with ambitions down the path of Voldemort and Grindelwald, and Fred and George seek out assistance. Providing more than they bargained for is the ghost of a Potions Master, the former self of the same Potions Master (back when he was fighting for the other side---oops), two of their nieces, a nephew who's too busy falling in love with his rival to be of use to anyone, and the Boy Who Lived, who would really like for this shit to be over already, and why does he have to deal with Severus Snape again---twice?





	The Deathly Hallows and George Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> This is another "Tumblr did its thing and people built up a plot and my brain decided I should run with it" thing. Thanks to todoroks and lullabyknell for the inspiration, and flipzmclego, slenderbutagressive, and lemonbadgeress for egging me on to make a whole fic out of it.
> 
> Original prompt was "Here’s a fic title - Deathly Hallows 2: Electric Boogaloo. What would this story be about?"
> 
> My variant of the answer was about some wannabe Dark Lord collecting the Deathly Hallows and accidentally giving the Resurrection Stone to George Weasley, giving him his twin back. Also starring: two different Severus Snapes, the recently-graduated Disaster Duo of Lily Luna Potter and Rose Weasley, and Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy falling in love in the background with the intensity of an empire collapsing. Also Harry, who has never, ever learned how to let this shit not be his problem and is not about to start now.
> 
> Title is vaguely inspired by "The Devil and Daniel Webster," a short American folk story about a powerful villain and the ordinary guy who managed to be too much for him.

The annoying thing about life is how it goes on and on and on and on and on and, well, on. George Weasley is technically aware that this is also generally considered to be one of the great things about life---insert something here about how people are adaptable and strong and can keep going in the face of all manner of slings and arrows, which has been his outrageous fortune to hear many times from well-meaning idiots. He’s almost completely managed to suppress the urge to hex them. But he’s outlived the inclination to admire it by what feels like a very long time.

Welcome to life as a former twin. Population: one. Population: sad. Population: held together by spite and too much alcohol and a painfully-sharp understanding of what his death would do to people and a grim determination that Fred’s dreams and ambitions not suffer for Fred’s absence.

Hence the joke shop; hence the name, still Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with the apostrophe defiantly on the plural side of the S; hence the string of inventions George still puts work into, struggling through the handicap of there being only one of them alive and working on it. Hence the smile on his face, courtesy of acting skills and a few too many cheering charms and happiness potions. They’ll wreck his liver, eventually, if the alcohol doesn’t get there first. 

Hence his absolute, utter, practically-inhuman rage when some prat decides to steal something instead of paying for it.

Technically, George has no problem with stealing. He’s done quite a bit of it himself, from the regular pilfering of potions ingredients and stuff from Filch’s “Confiscated and Highly Dangerous” drawer back at Hogwarts with his twin, to a more felony-level sort of theft from the Department of Mysteries and a few ancestral mansions back when he was nineteen and reacting rather badly to the loss of his other half. He can be philosophical about people returning the favor.

Thing is, this bloke isn’t stealing from him. He’s stealing from Fred, and George, with full awareness that he’s a walking disaster only barely masquerading as a functional wizard, has as one of his many coping mechanisms a complete, wholehearted, and devastating fury kept in reserve to answer slights against Fred.

He closes one eye, and the Extendable Eye (Wireless Edition) plonked into the ceiling like somebody’s bounced an Ever-Bouncy Ball off the floor too hard focuses on the thief and feeds the image through the back of his eyelid. It follows the thief as he wanders the aisle, placing Peruvian Darkness Powder and a Decoy Detonator into his pocket to join the Headless Hat he’s already swiped.

All of these things compound his sins by being things Fred and George invented together, and George pulls a Camouflage Cloak out from under the counter and does not so much disappear under it as become something that belongs wherever he happens to be at the moment; he can’t tell for sure from this angle but going by past experience he’s either a random, forgettable employee or a display stand full of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs.

The thief is a smallish, plain-looking man whose features give the impression of a shriveled walrus with rodent ancestry. He has on drab robes and a big stupid ring with a cracked stone on it, and when he reaches for the shelf one more time George clamps down on the extended hand with a vice-like grip and shoves his wand hard right behind the guy’s ear.

“Stealing is bad for your health, you know,” George says in a voice that conveys it might in fact be fatal.

The reaction of thieves who find themselves being accosted by a fireworks display is usually pretty entertaining. Screams, squeaks, hysterics, and a generous amount of self-crapping are the standard responses. George is therefore duly surprised when this one pulls out a pale, delicate wand and does something that makes George feel like he’s been shoved into a church bell and then rung. The world disappears in a blaze of sheer, resonating power and then something attempts to yank his arm off. But George has spent half a lifetime and more practicing stubbornness, and his hand stays clamped on the prat’s fingers, the ring cutting into his flesh.

Then there’s the compressive nothingness of apparition, and some more jangling, noisy confusion as the store’s anti-theft wards make themselves known, and George comes to himself spread-eagled on the floor of Aisle Seven with the thief's splinched hand and forearm still clutched in his fist.

Oh, and a blue-tinged, glowing face that only he could ever tell was not quite his own, that he hasn’t seen in years.

“Wow,” says Fred, looking down at him. “That was interesting.”


End file.
